Left to Kill (Adele Sharp #4) - Blake Pierce Page 0,1
glanced one way then the other, his eyes tracking the road curling around the forests and moving through a steady incline. Dark branches with bristling leaves extended over the shoulder of the road. Other limbs had been hacked back, kept away from telephone lines and from hazarding the highway.
Where had the girl come from? There was no vehicle in sight.
Herman winced, feeling a bruise forming along his ribs from where the airbag had punched him. His nose still trickled with blood, and he could feel it pooling in the crevice of his upper lip. He detected the faintest taste of bitter salt as the blood seeped down the corner of his mouth. He reached up and wiped it away, still moving cautiously toward the girl in the middle of the road.
His truck was still bent around the light post. The post itself had fared far worse than the truck. He would still be able to drive. The trucker continued forward, one hand extended in a calming gesture. The girl still didn’t look his way.
And that’s when he spotted the blood.
Rivulets of crimson dripped down her arms to her fingertips and pattered against the ground. Her feet were cracked and calloused, and covered with welts and cuts. She wasn’t wearing shoes, and it looked like she’d run through the forest judging by the state of her. There were small rips in her thin, gray T-shirt. There were cuts along her arm. She wore only underwear, with no trousers.
Herman felt another chill, and he stared at the girl, looking her in the eyes. At last, she seemed to notice him, as if snapping from a daze; she looked at him, and began to scream.
The sound echoed in the hills and the forests, sweeping across the trees and spreading over the highway like a glaze of ice. With it came a frigid, horrible sensation. Herman shook his head, refusing to allow himself to listen to his gut. His instincts were telling him to flee, to run back to his truck, get in the cabin, and zip away, leaving this problem behind him. He noticed the girl’s hands were bloodied too, and, tentatively, he called out, “Geht’s dir gut? Are you all right?”
She was shaking her head though, trembling, her chin jutting forward. Her eyes hadn’t settled on him until now, but now it seemed like they wanted to see nothing else. She continued to stare at him, desperate, her gaze pleading. And at last, she spoke.
If frostbite had a tone, it would’ve echoed in the girl’s words. Her voice croaked and stretched with splinters of sound. “Please,” she said, desperately. Her German strained with an American accent. He winced, trying to understand. “Please, don’t let them take me back. Please don’t let them take me back!”
Herman was now near her. He extended a hand, hovering it over her shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he should touch her. He wanted to comfort her, to let her know it was going to be okay. But at the same time, he didn’t want to scare her. So he lowered his hand and tried to convey, with his eyes, a warmth and gentleness. He could feel his nose still bleeding, but ignored it.
“Where did you come from, child?”
The girl pulled at the hem of her shirt, as if suddenly realizing she was standing half naked in the middle of the highway. She glanced around, staring toward the trees.
“There are others,” she said, desperate. “He keeps us locked away, hidden, no one can find us. I barely got away. Please. I’ve been there—I don’t know how long. Please, he’s going to kill them!”
The trembling, horrible feeling pawing at his spine only increased. Herman stared at her and swallowed. “Who?”
She stared back and said, “Please, please don’t let him take me back.”
Herman shushed her, quietly, his hand fumbling into his pocket, then realizing his phone was still back in the truck.
He gestured at her and quickly said, “Come, hurry. I need to take you to a hospital. Please, you’ll be safe. Let’s get off the road.”
It took some convincing, and patience, gesturing with his hand, but at last, the girl followed, stumbling after him and leaving bloody footprints behind her, leading away from the center of the highway, toward his truck. The speckled droplets of blood scattered across the damp ground. The blue light, flickering and sputtering behind them, suddenly stopped, dying as Herman stared.
Each step was one ventured in darkness. The trees loomed around them, the forest and